


Dave & Gamzee Chill In A Scrapyard

by Classpectanon



Series: Three Hundred And Sixty Five Ficlets About Homestuck [65]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Don't Try This At Home, Gen, Marijuana, Slice of Life, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:21:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29888640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Classpectanon/pseuds/Classpectanon
Summary: The sun had long since finished her elaborate descent below the horizon, leaving the local scrapyard in an orange and pink infused haze, like someone had dumped a fruity margarita over everything, coating it in a sticky, sweet, alcoholic haze. That being said, the libation of choice today wasn't alcohol, albeit not due to lack of access, but instead, the two teenagers were busy smoking about as much weed as they were humanly capable of inserting into their bodies through oral inhalation. Dave was busy working a bowl he had brought with him, carelessly lighting it up and inhaling and coughing and hacking it out, occasionally reaching down to take a sip of water. Gamzee was far less accepting of the frilly glassware, instead just bringing an entire cigarette case packed full of joints and burning through them as quickly as he could.65/365
Relationships: Gamzee Makara & Dave Strider
Series: Three Hundred And Sixty Five Ficlets About Homestuck [65]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2085684
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Dave & Gamzee Chill In A Scrapyard

The sun had long since finished her elaborate descent below the horizon, leaving the local scrapyard in an orange and pink infused haze, like someone had dumped a fruity margarita over everything, coating it in a sticky, sweet, alcoholic haze. That being said, the libation of choice today wasn't alcohol, albeit not due to lack of access, but instead, the two teenagers were busy smoking about as much weed as they were humanly capable of inserting into their bodies through oral inhalation. Dave was busy working a bowl he had brought with him, carelessly lighting it up and inhaling and coughing and hacking it out, occasionally reaching down to take a sip of water. Gamzee was far less accepting of the frilly glassware, instead just bringing an entire cigarette case packed full of joints and burning through them as quickly as he could.

The scrapyard wasn't exactly Dave's idea of a comfortable hangout, but after an hour getting high and eating Doritos with Gamzee, it had begun to feel a bit more homely. "Yeah, I can dig it. I'm not sure I'll be coming back anytime soon, but I can dig it." Dave said, watching as Gamzee lined up a bunch of glass bottles on the ground. Dave wasn't about to partake for whatever was about to happen, but he did know that Gamzee had an aluminum baseball bat with one of the swinging weight donut things on the tip, and he had found a nice discarded tire free of metal and glass shards, and was relaxing the best one could against recycled upholstery. "Whatcha gonna do with those bottles, Gam? Gonna knock 'em out of the park? You better kill 'em in one shot. Swing, batter batter."

Gamzee cackled, almost certainly loud enough for anyone to hear if they were remotely nearby. "You know it, brother." He spoke, quietly and calmly, teeing up like he had a golf club and then swinging through. There was a loud **_CRACK_**! as his baseball bat hit one of the glass bottles, smashing it into tiny fragments through the middle. His swing sent the bottle's neck soaring into the air, and he stepped back and saluted the flying glass chunk, rearing back with the baseball bat and swinging again to shatter it in the air. "Christ almighty."

"Christ almighty indeed, impeccable aim." Dave wryly commented, watching as Gamzee shaded his face with his hand from any flying little bits. Lest you think they are doing this unsupervised and unsafely, Dave's Bro knew exactly where they were and was busy not smoking two blocks away in his car but instead listening to his Lil' Dicky/Merzbow/Limp Bizkit playlist (designed to be played on shuffle for maximum enjoyment). And Gamzee was wearing as much protective equipment as he would allow himself to wear, elbow and knee pads, thick gloves, long sleeves, safety goggles, and a construction mask pulled up in between puffs from the latest burning joint.

Dave's eyes were red and his mouth felt like it was full of cotton, both salivating a torrent and completely dry at the same time. This was, of course, the acceptable way things were meant to be, and he leaned forward to take another puff from his bowl, blowing it out of his nose and wincing. Down with some water to soothe the throat, and then a Diet Coke, because it tasted good - incredible, when high. The only thing that made artificial sugar tolerable was, of course, being high as a kite. "Where'd you learn to swing like that, Gam? Next thing you know we'll be seeing you in the minor leagues! Or maybe even the majors if you keep that up. Gamzee Makara, pitching for the Philadelphia... Fliers? Maybe some day they'll actually make it into the world series, who knows. Swinging for the Fliers - Gamzee Makara, number Oh-Nine or whatever the fuck, coming in fresh and hot."

"The Phillies." Gamzee corrected him, grabbing the next bottle by the neck and flicking it into the air in just the right way. He bent his wrist while letting go and watched as it went sailing up into the air, almost entirely out of sight, twirling wildly across its vertical axis. "And maybe so, brother. Maybe so. Learned from the best."

"Right. The Phillies. Suhhhhwing, batter batter!" Dave jeered, putting both hands to his mouth to amplify his voice, letting it bounce around in the junkyard, echoing off all the glass and metal, reverberating through the clearing. Gamzee swung, putting all his back and shoulders into it, and on impact, the bottle simply _exploded_ , bursting into thousands of little bits of glass with the most amusingly loud twinkling noise. It scattered onto the dirt and dust like so much fresh rain. "Home run, motherfucker! That's how we do it. Damn, I should call Bro and ask if he can get me some peanuts and popcorn, I'm suddenly in the mood."

"Ring him up for some hot dogs. I could fuck up a hot dog." Gamzee replied, tapping the tip of his baseball bat to the dusty ground again, crunching some shards beneath the tip, and then reeled back like he was swinging a golf club. The air sang with noise as he smashed the third bottle into pieces.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. All views, kudos, comments, and bookmarks are appreciated.  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/classpectanon)


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